Scratching an Itch
by Traviosita9124
Summary: Sick of her self-destructive behavior, Crews sets out to save Reese from herself. Heads up, it switches between their two POVs. Rated M for definite Crews/Reese sex with undertones of a possible romance. One-shot, may write more based on this one.


She had bad bad thoughts

She had bad bad thoughts.

Dark thoughts. Thoughts that if she hadn't already been to hell and back, seen things she shouldn't have seen, would have made her blush bright red, Iranian blood or no.

Lately, she hadn't been able to scratch the proverbial itch, no matter the amount of booze or one night stands picked up in any of the seedy bars scattered around L.A. The beautiful Taye Diggs look-a-like from last night, the dark and brooding man with the bright green eyes… hell, even the blond she'd picked up on the beach the other day hadn't helped to slake her lust.

She could only see red.

That was her problem.

And Dani Reese knew that no matter how many bottles of vodka or beer she drowned herself in, it wouldn't make it any better. No amount of booze could make any or all of her conquests… him.

Friend, maybe, but never, ever boyfriend. Partner, definitely, but never, ever lover.

Every time she imagined being with him, imagined seeing bright red hair between her thighs, or the feel of his warm, pale body over hers, his hips pounding into her, his mouth caressing her neck, nibbling on her ear lobe, whispering everything she needed to hear, and then some…

Dani Reese swore that if sex with Charlie Crews was as good as she imagined it could be, she would never need the bottle or another one night stand again.

She needed a drink.

He had bad bad thoughts.

Dark thoughts. Thoughts that if he hadn't already been to hell and back, seen things he wished he hadn't seen, would have made him blush bright red, thanks to his fair Irish skin.

Days like today were always the worst. Because, she had just come into the bullpen with her hair still wet from her post-workout shower.

He'd lied to Tidwell that day when he said he wasn't thinking about Reese in the shower. He thought about her in the shower.

He thought about her in the shower, a lot.

Which usually led him into being thrown into a full blown fantasy of barging into the women's locker room, forcibly removing any other officers and taking her, rough and from behind, without any warning. He imagined he could feel her soft, warm, slippery skin beneath his hands, hear her rapid breathing, and test the weight of her breasts in his palms as he thrust as deeply as he could, trying to hit all her sweet spots…

He knew instinctively that Reese would want to be domineering in bed; that was just her personality. But his favorite part of his shower fantasy was the moment he could read her uncertainty as he took her regular control away from her, tempering her will to his until the melted together in one blissful—

He jumped when she cleared her throat; she had caught him staring at her, and he had to hurry up and look busy cutting up his granny smith apple while willing his cock to go soft.

No small feat when she was just across from him.

Logically, he knew his shower fantasy stemmed from that first case they worked together, when he had helped her wash dope off her face in some shitty shower stall, a dead man barely 5 feet away. There had been nothing sexual about that day, all he had been concerned about was his partner, and reflecting on a high-stress situation such as that is natural.

Coming away with one of your favorite fantasies about your spitfire partner? Not so much.

He was careful not to appear startled when Reese sprang up from her desk, grabbed her coat and took off, muttering something about getting a drink. He sat there another few minutes, making sure not cut himself as he finished his apple. When he was done, he dialed down to Bobby.

"Hey, Bobby. You feel like grabbing a drink tonight?"

Walking into yet another Irish-themed "pub", she thought to herself that she should really try to straighten up. Try to be the by the book cop she was supposed to be. Try to not be a hypocrite every time she stood up in a meeting and asked for help staying sober.

She shot straight to the bar, not stopping to look at the other patrons around her. She was jittery. A beer to calm her nerves, then the hunt for a warm body for the night; she knew it'd be easier, she wouldn't be this wound up, if it wasn't for her partner. It'd gotten to the point where she couldn't watch him put his mouth around a piece of fruit without wanting to jump him.

What was worse, she knew how pathetic she was, wanting to use her partner just to get off. At least, that's all she admitted to herself she wanted.

The kicker was, he wasn't her usual type. She didn't go for redheads with stunningly blue eyes, with lanky builds and lean muscle and enough personality quirks to drive any sane person up a wall.

No, her type was more like tall, dark, brooding and GQ handsome. Like the man at the other end of the bar. Jeans, sports jacket, button down shirt, open at the collar. Short dark hair, spiked, green eyes and a look to make any woman crumble. That, right there ladies and gentlemen, was the Dani Reese special: tool.

She finished her beer and took a deep calming breath before sliding off her stool.

"Guess you wouldn't want another drink."

She knew that voice.

"Granted, you are in AA, so not wanting the drink should be a good thing. Would be, if you hadn't already had one…"

She whirled. If she hadn't been so irate at her plans for the evening being ruined, she would have been pleased to see him. Dress pants, button down undone, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. Why did men always look so good in their shirtsleeves?

"Crews," she hissed, "how did you find me?"

"That assumes I was looking for you."

"You weren't?"

"No, I was looking for a beer; which you found for me."

She bit back a smartass remark, taking another minute to drink him in. With out his gun or badge on his belt, she could almost imagine being able to take him home… almost.

"I need to go," she spit out, lowering her shoulder and brushing by him.

No. Not tonight. No putting anything off for tomorrow.

He knew what he interrupted, knew her MO when it came to picking up men in bars. Pick your mark, get hammered, get laid, and get out. The department knew it, too, and he was sick of hearing it whispered in the men's locker room. But mostly, he was worried for her; she'd end up killing herself if she kept it up.

He caught her elbow, turning her and pulling her close.

"Dani," he whispered in her ear, reveling when he felt her give an involuntary shudder at his nearness, "I know you're not happy to see me. But--"

"But what? What business is it of yours what I do when I'm off duty?" she hissed, trying to keep other patrons from noticing them.

"You're my partner. You are my business, especially if you're doing something that might get you hurt."

He noticed she had brought herself closer to him as he spoke. He could see fire in her eyes, the kind of fire he knew without a doubt resided in his own. He took advantage of his grip on her, pulling her close as he lowered his head and slanted his lips across hers. He felt her stiffen at first, slowly relaxing into the kiss. He tried his luck, sliding his tongue across her lower lip, seeking entrance, half expecting to get bit.

He swore he felt his body ignite when she granted him access, and his want ratcheted higher when he felt her hand slide up his chest to wind around his neck, her fingers tracing light patterns over the nape of his neck. It took all of his will power to pull away from her.

"We're leaving," he growled, heading to the door and pulling her along with him.

She had no Godly idea what she was doing, in the front seat of her partner's considerably expensive Italian sports car, watching him as he sped home.

Sped home with her. Sped home with her to do wonderful, unthinkable things to her, if that kiss meant anything. One kiss and she felt drunk.

Or she was becoming a light weight.

She wanted to ask him if this was an impulse on his part, if he thought about her the way she thought about him, but that seemed too needy. Detective Reese was never needy, but Dani sometimes could be.

He knew he should be gentler when shifting gears.

He also knew it wasn't everyday he'd get the chance to go home with his partner, although tonight might change that. He hoped tonight changed that.

He barely hit the break as he shot up his drive way, tires squealing as he came to a sudden stop in his garage. He ripped the keys out of the ignition and jumped out of the car in one motion, catching Dani's eye across the hood of the car.

For the briefest of moments, he was afraid she'd bolt. Then he saw her eyes darken as they raked over his face.

Before he knew it (he doubted Reese could follow it either) they were both in front of the car, mouths fused together. He ran his fingers into her hair, pushing it out of his way as he kissed down her neck, stopping to suckle in the hollow of her throat. He heard her moan his name as she raked her fingers across his scalp, trying to regain control of the situation.

But this wasn't her situation. It was his.

He released his hold on her hair to run his hands down her sides, over her hips and under the curve of her ass. She knew what he wanted, and with a slight hop wrapped her legs around his waist, his hard on pressing insistently between her thighs and his hands holding her in place.

He still tasted like the Corona he'd had at the bar; she could even taste the lime he had squeezed into it. Figured Crews would find a way to put fruit in beer.

Feeling one of his hands slip between then as he carefully walked them up his stairs, she pulled back slightly to give him more room to work. She felt his nimble fingers dance over the buttons, separating the two halves before allowing his fingers to dance along the laced edge of her bra. She wanted more of his hands on her, and thrust herself into his hand, trying to get him to actually touch her. She only succeeded in causing him to trip up the last step, his momentum carrying them into a wall.

She had a sudden vision of the two of them screwing against the wall, his mouth on her breast and him deep inside her. She moaned against his lips as he finally pushed the cup of her bra down to touch her more fully. He kissed along her jaw line until he could whisper to her, "What do you want, Reese?"

Her tongue froze, but fortunately she managed to get her hands moving. Feeling safe, pinned between the wall and her partner's strong body, she released her hold around his neck and slid her hands down, reaching for his belt buckle. She wanted him, now.

Suddenly, catching her off balance, he pulled her away from the wall.

"Not like this. Not against the wall, at least not this time."

That broke through her sex-induced stupor. What did he mean, "this time"? Was he anticipating more times than tonight?

God, she hoped he did.

He felt some of the wildness go out of her when he refused to give way to her desire. She hadn't been expecting him to want more of her, but he did. He knew they were both too screwed up for a normal relationship at the moment, but one day, maybe they could give it an honest shot. Feeling he was gaining more and more control of the situation, he planted her on her feet in his bedroom. Tenderly, he kissed her, his hands gliding gently over her skin as he pushed her shirt off her shoulders and onto the floor.

She was beautiful, standing there in the dim light of his bedroom, eyes passionate yet uncertain, and he told her so. For the first time this evening, she kissed him, deep and bordering on demanding as she stripped him of his own shirt. His belt buckled soon followed, and before he could stop her, her hot little hand had found its way inside his boxers to wrap around his hard on. He groaned when she tightened her grip and began to stroke him. Realizing it'd be over too quickly if he allowed it to continue, he grabbed her wrist, ceasing her actions.

"It's not fair to do that to a man without giving him a warning."

"Because it's so fair to ask me what I want then refuse--"

He lowered his head to her still exposed nipple, sliding his hands around her rib cage to unclasp it in the back. As it fell to the floor, he knelt in front of her to undo her jeans. He couldn't help but wear a shit-eating grin when, as he slid her jeans and panties down off her hips, he felt her legs trembling. He helped her to step out of them before pushing her back onto his bed.

This was her fantasy come true: naked in her partner's bed, his head between her thighs.

But, he wasn't as caring as she expected, certainly wasn't as gentle about it as that traffic cop had been gossiping about. He nipped at her thighs, let his teeth graze her lips, suckled roughly on her—

"CREWS!" she keened as her orgasm hit her, and hit her hard. She could swear she saw stars.

When she shook off the cobwebs of her release, she noticed him looking at her, his eyes conveying his pleasure at her climax, as well as how badly he wanted her. She still wanted to feel him hard and strong and alive inside her, too. Carefully, she sat up, reaching for his belt a second time. Now he allowed her fingers to make quick work of his belt and pants, as well as his boxers. Quickly, ever so quickly, he grabbed her around her waist, positioning her on her hands and knees in front of him.

She felt exposed, nervous.

She saw him reaching for the top drawer on his bedside table and stopped him.

"Crews, I'm on the pill and clean." She'd seen his file before meeting him; she knew that by some miracle, he'd made it out of prison STD free. Given her choices, if she was only going to have once shot to be with her partner (one shot was all she let herself hope for) she'd rather feel all of him.

Without warning, he gripped her hips took her for his own.

Tight. She was so, so, so very tight. And wet and warm.

She was the first since before prison he hadn't bothered to use protection with; it took all of his might to will is legs to keep him poised above her. He plastered her back in kisses as he tried to regain some of his calm, enjoying the little gurgles of pleasure that spilled from her throat.

Placing his legs outside of hers and gripping her hips tightly, he pulled out slowly, losing himself in the sensation of her completely surrounding him. He kept the pace agonizingly slow as he leaned over her back, brushed her hair out of his way and whispered in her ear,

"This is mine, Dani. No more strange men in bars. No more punishing yourself for things that aren't your fault. If you have an itch that needs scratching, you come to me and only me."

She felt herself get even wetter when he said those things to her.

And then he really went to work, taking her so hard and fast she had to bury her head in his pillows to keep her screams from waking Ted. And all the while, despite how rough he was with her, he kept caressing her breasts and kissing her neck doing his damnedest to get her off twice in twenty minutes.

She felt him tense behind her as he pressed harder on her and whispered to her one last time, "Come for me, Dani."

"CHARLIE!"

And come she did.

He couldn't believe his luck.

He not only managed to get her off twice before he achieved his own peak, he also managed to keep her here afterwards, sprawled across his chest in a post-coital afterglow. He was even more amazed that she hadn't broken any of his bones for what he'd said to her.

Playing with her hair, he closed his eyes and began to drift off…

"Charlie?"

Figures. He stops talking and she starts.

"Hmm?"

"What you said… why'd you say it?"

He could hear her cringe at the tone in her voice. It was a very non-Reese tone; he had a feeling it was a very much Dani tone. He opened his eyes and pulled himself up against the headboard, cradling his lover to his chest.

"I said it because, well, because it's what I want. Dani, you're beautiful and you're smart and you're wonderful and it hurts to know you go out and do that to yourself. I'm worried if you keep it up, you'll get yourself hurt. If you're going to use someone, I'd rather you use me. At least using me means you won't be drunk or high or somewhere dangerous with God knows who."

"So, it's a sacrifice for me."

He could feel her muscles tensing in anger, ready to push away from him and run out the door. He adjusted his grip on her.

"It's not a sacrifice, Dani. I want you, in a very physical sense. I want other things from you as well, but not before you're ready for them. I'd rather you use me until you are ready for… other things."

"Other things, Charlie?"

He grinned into her hair when she repeated his words with that questioning tone.

"Romantic things, Dani. You-and-me things."

He thought she was satisfied with that answer, until he heard her say, "No more random women for you either, Charlie. Not if I'm only supposed to be coming to you. That's a two way street."

"No other women," he agreed. "As if I'd have the energy for other women after being with you; you're going to wear me out, woman."

"Good," she asserted before she began to doze on his chest.

Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he eyed the door to his master bath. Perhaps when she woke, he could talk her into taking a shower with him…

FIN


End file.
